Out of Control
by VGenesis
Summary: The man who will vanquish Voldemort. The man who will save the wizarding world. The Chosen One. With the pressure mounting, Harry tries to vanquish his feelings of hopeless by taking control of one area of his life – food. But when a healthy eating plan turns into a dangerous obsession, who will save the Chosen One from himself? Warning: Eating disorder fic.
1. Chapter 1

Harry wasn't worried about the annual Quidditch weigh in. Why should he be? Sure, he needed to be light and fast as the Seeker but he was constantly being told he was too skinny by Mrs Weasley and Hermione. Then again…

Frowning, Harry thought back to the last time either of them accused him of being underweight. His memories took him all the way back to the night that Dumbledore had brought him to the Burrow after his visit to Slughorn. Molly had declared him shockingly thin and forced a large amount of food upon him during the first few days of his visit. However, she had not readdressed the issue for the rest of his stay.

Did that mean he had put on a significant amount of weight since then? No. Of course not. He was worrying over nothing. In a matter of minutes, the scales would reassure him that he weighed exactly the same as he had last year and he could put the whole matter to rest.

Almost subconsciously he hunched over the magical display on the top of the scales in a futile attempt to keep them hidden from the keen eyes of Madame Hooch. Instead of her usual spiel where she berated him and demanded that he increase his food intake lest he waste away to nothingness, Madame Hooch simply smiled and nodded with approval.

Taking his courage in hand, Harry risked a glance at the numbers on the screen. At which point he nearly toppled off the scales in shock.

"Better show a bit more balance on your broom mate or we haven't got a promising practice ahead!" Ron was smiling fondly at his best friend but Harry had lost his sense of humour.

He had somehow gained half a stone in the space of a year. How had that happened? Looking at Madame Hooch with desperation in his eyes, he felt his entire face turning red with embarrassment. This couldn't really be happening, could it?

Seeing and correctly interpreting his concern, Madame Hooch squeezed his shoulder gently, "No need to worry, Potter. Your BMI is well within the healthy zone. In fact, every year previous to this one, it has been in the underweight zone so you should actually be pleased. I know I am." And with that, she led him off the scales so she could take Ginny's weight.

Ginny smiled at him also, "Don't worry, Harry. We'll tell you if you're turning Dudley on us!" The words were said kindly but Harry felt every word punch him in his overgrown stomach like a fist. Suddenly, the world felt as if it was spiralling out of his control. How had this happened without him even realising it? Would he be able to undo the damage in time? What if the consequences affected the entire Quidditch team?

Feeling horribly queasy, Harry focused on breathing. In. Out. In Out. Having finished with Ginny, Madame Hooch was once more examining Harry. This time with worried eyes. "Potter, I think you had better go and lie down. You're looking very pale."

Even though he knew the captain of a team couldn't be seen as weak and even though this was supposed to be their first Quidditch practice of the season, he knew that it would be even worse for team morale if he proceeded to fall off his broom mid-practice. So with a hurried apology, he rescheduled the practice and raced away from the site of his utter humiliation.

The following morning, Ron and Hermione pounced on him at breakfast. They were wearing twin expressions of relief and frustration. Hermione caught him in a tight embrace, "Harry, where have you been? We were so worried!"

Harry looked at them blankly. Following the disastrous events of the day before, he had realised that he had some research to do. He'd created a calorie counter, meal plans and an exercise regime. All of which were designed to help him lose that despicable half a stone before the first Quidditch match of the season.

In order to avoid detection in the midst of this crucial but embarrassing task, he had carried out his research in the Room of Requirement. However, he had no intention of telling his friends this version of events.

Instead, he dropped his head until it was just above his plate and lowered his voice until it was barely above a whisper, "Dumbledore took me on a sort of field trip. I can't tell you much at the moment but it was a long journey and I was so knackered afterwards that I pretty much collapsed into bed."

His friends looked disappointed but nodded conspiratorially. Of course they believed him. His story made perfect sense. But although the lie may have been absolutely necessary for the preservation of his pride, Harry still felt a twinge of guilt. His new weight may have been humiliating and repulsive but this was the first secret he had kept from his friends and that made him slightly sad.

Still, it wasn't forever. He would stick to his meal plans, lose the half a stone and then everything would return to normal. That was the thought which consoled him as he helped himself to a small portion of plain porridge and a slice of dry toast. It wasn't going to be easy but it would have to be endured if he was to regain control over his life.

Ok, that's it for chapter 1 – let me know what you think! All reviews will be much appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

The morning had dawned bright and clear with the air smelling of autumn and new possibilities. Harry allowed that smell to fill him as he swooped and swerved through the empty Quidditch stadium. A feeling of recklessness suddenly seized him and he began to embark of a death defying plummet. His toes scrapped the even green lawn as he pulled up on the handle of his broom with barely a millisecond to spare.

Soaring up into the crisp air once again, a feeling of power and invincibility spread through his body, warming him from within. It was only when a scattering of students began to appear on the grounds, armed with books, parchments and stacks of golden pancakes, that Harry reluctantly returned to earth and hurried towards the changing room.

The weighing scales employed in the annual Quidditch weigh-in had been hidden in Madame Hooch's private office. Retrieving them had not been difficult. "Alohomora" had got him through the door and "accio scales" had brought the scales flying into his open arms. The mission had taken place in less than five minutes and the borrowed scales were now safely stashed in the male locker room.

"Clauditis tactus" he whispered, laying his hand gently against the smooth metal casing of his locker. After feeling a mild wave of heat work its way slowly up his hand, the locker clicked open and the scales greeted him like an old friend.

Stepping onto the scales, Harry forced himself to look at the all-important number that would reveal his fate. Reading the number aloud, he couldn't resist a broad grin. He had finally done it. Three weeks of daily exercising and healthy eating had allowed him to lose that excess half a stone. The burden he had been carrying around for goodness knows how long was finally gone.

Feeling almost lightheaded with relief and exultation, Harry shoved the scales back into his locker, sealed it and dashed off to Herbology. Entering the greenhouse just a few minutes before class began, he was pounced upon once again by Ron and Hermione. So much for my good mood, he thought to himself.

"Oh Harry, there you are!" Hermione looked even more frantic than usual, "You need to stop running off by yourself. We had no idea where you were or how to check you were ok!" Harry fought to hide a scowl, "Sorry Hermione, I wasn't aware that I was under an obligation to report my whereabouts to you at all times."

At this comment, Ron shifted uncomfortably, "Come on, mate. There's no need for that kind of tone. We're just looking out for you, that's all." Harry narrowed his eyes at his freckled friend and felt his hands curl into fists, "Looking out for me, sure. Because every time the famous Harry Potter disappears it has to have something to do with Voldemort or Dumbledore or the fate of the entire wizarding world. It couldn't possibly be something as insignificant as fancying a moment alone."

Hermione and Ron were now looking thoroughly affronted but Harry didn't care. "I may have no choice when it comes to fighting Voldemort but I do have some choice over the way I live my life so back off and keep your concerns to yourself!" And with that he gathered his belongings and went to sit on the other side of the greenhouse, as far away from them as possible.

Throughout the rest of the day, Hermione and Ron had tried desperately to corner Harry so that they could continue their conversation from earlier but Harry kept shaking them off. He wasn't sure why he was avoiding his best friends with such fierce determination but he knew that they would only make him angrier.

In his attempt to avoid further confrontations, he ended up missing both lunch and dinner. Consequently, by the time dusk had begun to fall, Harry was absolutely ravenous. However, it was already half past eight and he knew that eating late at night was a bad idea as all the calories he consumed would be stored as fat whilst he slept.

He was still fighting the urge to make a quick trip to the kitchens when he noticed a small, anxious looking first-year hovering a few feet away and trying to make eye contact. When Harry looked at him directly, the boy launched into his message, "Dumbledore says that you have an appointment with him and if it is still convenient he would like to see you in his office." On completing his allotted task, the young boy rushed off nervously.

Harry, on the other hand, was frozen in his seat. Had he really been so preoccupied that he had completely forgotten about his lesson with Dumbledore? But his surprise soon faded to bitter anger. His lessons with Dumbledore were yet another part of his life which he had no control over. He felt like a child being equipped with sticks and stones so he could go and slay a dragon. However, he might as well play along for now.

Harry's lesson with Dumbledore passed quickly and he left his office with excitement and intrigue burning in his eyes. On finding Ron and Hermione in the common room, he couldn't help but forgive them and recount every detail of his lesson. By the time he had finished, Ron and Hermione were perched on the edge of their seats, "So that's the background to how Voldemort was born. Not exactly the best start to life, was it?

Ron opened his mouth to answer only to be cut off by the loud growling sound that seemed to be emanating from Harry's stomach. Right on cue, all three of them burst into peals of laughter. Attempting to control himself, Harry opening his mouth to speak only to catch Ron's eye and dissolve into hysterics once again.

After several minutes had passed, they finally recovered themselves and smiled wearily at other. "Need some chocolate, Harry? I have some upstairs if you'd like." Harry smiled good-naturedly at his best friend, "Nah, I'm ok Ron. I'm sure I'll make it till breakfast tomorrow."

Hermione looked at him with a slight frown on her face, "Come to think of it, I never saw you at any meals today…" All of a sudden, Harry felt his amusement and good nature dissolve into sharp irritation. Fighting to keep this new emotion off his face, Harry feigned nonchalance, "Oh yeh, I spent most of the day in the library working on that evil Transfiguration essay for McGonagall. I grabbed a few rolls at lunch and ate them as throughout the day."

Hermione seemed to be satisfied with his answer and smiled, "It really was a difficult essay. I wasn't sure whether we needed to include the metaphysical elements explored by later writers so I did a brief summary of their conclusions. Then again, maybe I should have…" She paused, her mind clearly ticking away over her own essay.

Harry felt his face relax and barely stifled a yawn as the drama of the day caught up with him, "Look guys, I know it's still quite early but I'm absolutely knackered and my bed's calling to me. See you in the morning." Hermione, still embroiled in some internal debate about her essay, nodded distractedly. Ron saluted him, a grin on his face, "See you in the AM mate."

Lying on his back in his plush four-poster bed, Harry pressed his hand to his stomach. It felt like he was being kicked repeatedly in the stomach by a vicious Hippogriff. Once again, he toyed with the idea of heading down to the kitchens and grabbing a bite to eat. A slice of treacle tart and a hot mug of tea would really hit the spot. But no, that would completely derail his diet.

Besides, now that he was alone, the futility of his lesson with Dumbledore was beginning to sink in. How could the knowledge he had gained help him in his fight against Voldemort? What would happen if Voldemort captured him tomorrow? It wasn't as if he could say, "Guess what, I know the circumstances in which you were conceived! Your mother's family were tramps and your father was ensnared by a love potion. Ha! Take that!"

Wrapped in a blanket of despair, the growing pains in his stomach became almost comforting. The physical pain distracted him from his thoughts and he had a strange feeling of victory. He had managed to go an entire day without eating. That was something he hadn't managed to do for years. His lesson with Dumbledore may have been a write-off but at least the day had been successful in one sense. He certainly would have made some progress with his diet.

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	3. Chapter 3

Looking at the abundance of food before him, Harry felt his stomach contract in an unexplainable spasm of nerves. Why was he nervous? He had lost the excess weight and was now free to resume his normal eating habits. Wasn't he?

Strangely, the thought of increasing his food intake seemed downright reckless. What happened if he started gaining weight again? And there were also the feelings of euphoria that accompanied his morning weigh-in sessions. He would definitely miss those. Now that he thought about it, losing weight had brought him an unexpected degree of satisfaction and accomplishment.

Sensing Hermione's eyes on him, he turned to look her, "Harry, it's been fifteen minutes and you still haven't eaten any breakfast. What's wrong?" Anger flitted to the surface once again. However, this time, Harry was determined to control his temper.

After all, now that he was planning to lose even more weight, he was going to have to use his wits to avoid discovery. He didn't like the idea of deceiving his friends but he liked the idea of being force-fed even less.

"Actually Hermione, I've already eaten. I woke up ravenous and went to the kitchens to get some food early this morning. Oh, and I bumped into Dobby when I was down there. He showed me the 9 multi-coloured socks he's added to his sock collection and made me promise to start visiting him more often."

Hermione nodded in agreement, "Yes, we really should make more of an effort to visit him. He works so hard in the kitchens. Well, if we're all done here then let's get moving. Professor Slughorn said we'll be brewing the Pepper-up Potion today so we don't want to be late!"

Hearing her response, Harry gave himself a mental pat on the back. Now he had a solid excuse for missing meals. He could say he had just visited Dobby and grabbed some food from the kitchen. So far so good!

Following a very successful potions lesson, thanks to the Prince's notes, Harry was able to avoid lunch with the excuse that he had to finish Snape's essay. As this was not in fact the case, Harry decided to burn some calories by flying several times around the Quidditch pitch. Feeling adrenaline surge through his system, he let out a woop of joy. He could almost feel the calories slipping away. It felt so good to be moving solidly towards his goal.

However, on his way to Snape's lesson, he started to regret his midday flight. His vision had taken on a somewhat fuzzy quality and he kept tripping over his feet. By the time he reached the classroom, he was struggling to stay upright. Fortunately, most of the lesson involved listening to Snape drone on about the reductor curse, a spell Harry had mastered in his fourth year. Unfortunately, the last half an hour involved practicing the spell on blocks of wood.

Ordinarily, Harry would have blasted his block into a pile of sawdust in moments. However, he was feeling oddly lightheaded and the block seemed to be swaying in front of him. His aim was so poor that by the end of the lesson he was blasted Hermione's hat, the classroom chandelier, two unsuspecting paintings and Seamus's stool.

"Tut, tut, Potter. Missed again. Another pathetic attempt. I think a one-eyed troll would have more success."

The malice of Snape's words stung him and Harry couldn't help but retort, "Well, maybe a one-eyed troll would be a better teacher!"

A deadly hush fell over the class, "Detention. My office. 7.30 sharp." Harry glared in response. He didn't know why Snape's comment nettled him so much. Snape had been insulting him from the moment he had set foot in this castle. Still, a person could only take so much before he snapped. At least, that's what he told himself as he stormed back to the Common Room in a towering temper, clutching at walls in an attempt to remain upright.

"Harry. Harry!" Ron and Hermione were struggling to keep up with his Harry's long strides, "Wait up, mate. We wanted to know if you're feeling ok. You were really off your game today and you look about to topple over. What's up?"

Harry glared at his best friend. "I'm fine, ok! Just back off a minute." Sighing, he immediately regretted his outburst. "Look, I'm just tired. I'm going to lie down for a bit." Ron nodded sympathetically.

"Well, after you've rested a bit, do you fancy visiting Hagrid with us? We were planning to go before dinner." Harry frowned. If he went to Hagrid's, he would have to choke down some of Hagrid's plate-sized rock cakes or mountain sized scones. Even worse, he would have to accompany Ron and Hermione to dinner as making a third excuse would seem overly suspicious.

So it was with a heavy heart that Harry told them he had to prepare an essay for Flitwick before his detention and so would be unable to join them. Seeing his friends cross the grounds through his dormitory window, Harry felt a pang of loss.

He hadn't seen Hagrid since the beginning of term and the grounds looked crisp and fresh. However, if he was to have any chance of beating Voldemort then he was going to have to be at his best. And that meant making sacrifices. Right on cue, his stomach grumbled loudly.

At a quarter past seven, Harry started his trip down to the dungeons. Unfortunately, he was caught out by two moving staircases and a trick step and so had to run flat out in order to make his appointment.

By the time he reached the dungeons, the whole castle seemed to be swaying from side to side. But there was no time to recover. After a hurried knock, he entered Snape's office and tried to focus on the bat-like man in front of him and block out the incessant ringing in his ears.

"Ah, Potter, tardy as ever." Looking at his watch, Harry was just about able to make out two black blurs on a gold clock face. "Two minutes late. So inconsiderate. Maybe something to dwell on as you sort through this frogspawn. I want all the frogspawn in this barrel put into jars, five frog eggs per jar. You may begin."

As Harry expected, it was boring, laborious work. Even worse, with his blurred vision, it was becoming increasingly difficult to ensure that the right number of eggs went in each jar. However, after almost two hours, his task was complete and he was able to leave the office… or so he thought.

"Potter, come here." Grudgingly, Harry approached the desk, "You seem even clumsier than usual today, Potter. I want you to report to Madame Pomfrey. Ask for a routine check-up. You may leave. Goodness knows what would happen if we lost the Chosen One."

Hearing blood pounding in his ears, Harry rushed for the door. How pathetic! How stupid! He had almost been caught after just two days. He would have to be more careful. Take extra precautions.

Why it was so important to avoid food was not yet apparent to him. All he knew was that not eating and winning the war against Voldemort were somehow intrinsically linked. So he would find a way to make this work. The world was counting on him.


	4. Chapter 4

Gazing down at the small numbers on the scales, Harry couldn't help but smile broadly. Who would have thought that in just a few months he could have lost a whole stone? Stripping off his clothes, he stared at himself in the mirror.

Of course, there was still room for improvement. The paunch of his stomach and his sagging forearms were clear indications of his laziness and imperfection. He was determined to eradicate them before it was too late. Before he let everyone down.

Making his slow way back to the dormitories, Harry was unable to repress a shiver. Despite his many layers of clothes, he felt cold to his core. For some reason, he was finding himself wearing more and more layers in an attempt to ward of an inexplicable chill.

After taking a hot shower, Harry's vision started to blur and so he returned to his bed with every intention of sleeping for the majority of the day. Unfortunately, his plan was not to be. Just an hour after he returned to bed, he was shaken rudely awake by a very excited Ron, "Harry, Harry! Why aren't you up yet? It's Hogsmede weekend! Let's go!"

Grumbling to himself about inconsiderate people who were overly loud in the mornings, Harry pulled himself out of bed… only to fall promptly on Ron. "Watch it, mate!" Ron had managed to catch him, but only just.

Feeling the heat rise in his face, Harry mumbled an apology and disappeared behind his hangings to get dressed. What had just happened? And why? Hearing his teeth chatter, Harry instructed himself to get a grip. He was stronger than this. He had to win. He had to.

Ron, meanwhile, was staring in confusion at the hangings that concealed his best friend. In the few moments he had held him, Ron could have sworn that he was nothing more than skin and bone. But how could that have happened? He was always with them at meals… wasn't he? Or at least, he was always visiting Dobby in the kitchens and eating there. That's what he had been telling them.

"Oi, Harry, I'm starving. Will you hurry up?" He knew what Harry was going to say before he heard it but it still left him with a sinking feeling, "You go ahead. I'll grab something later." Now that he really thought about it, he hadn't seen his friend eat since the beginning of term. And if he hadn't been eating in the kitchens…

"I'll meet you downstairs in half an hour. Don't be late!" And with that, Ron rushed off to do some investigating.

"You cold Harry?" Ron had been watching his friend carefully ever since they left the school and by the time they entered Hogsmede, a number of alarm bells were ringing. Not only did Harry seem to be wearing enough jumpers for three people, he was still shivering. And that was to say nothing of the preoccupied look in his eyes and the way he kept tripping over his feet. How long had this been going on? How could they all have missed it?

Feeling Harry clutch his arm for support, Ron made a decision. He was going to have to discuss this with Hermione. And, if his suspicions were correct, he knew a way that he could get rid of Harry for an hour of two.

"It's a bit chilly isn't it? Let's grab a butterbeer from The Three Broomsticks. Should warm us up a bit!" Hermione nodded her approval but Harry looked stricken.

"Yeh, I'd love to but I can't… I have to do a bit of research for Dumbledore. I'll meet you outside Flourish and Blotts in an hour." Ron grimaced, this latest excuse was further evidence of a theory that he really didn't want to believe.

Seeing that Hermione was about to protest, he took her by the arm and lead her to the pub, "Course Harry, we understand. See you in a bit." Noting Hermione's look of irritation, he shook his head slightly, "Not now. Wait till we're inside."

It took less than fifteen minutes for Ron to disclose all the evidence of his theory and by the end of it, Hermione looked on the verge of tears. "Oh Ron, how could we be so blind?"

Ron felt his heart sink, "So you think I'm right? You think he has a… food problem?" Hermione nodded in despair, "Skipping meals, lying to us, feeling cold all the time, feeling dizzy, oh Ron, whatever are we going to do?"

Ron bit his lip in apprehension, "We could call him out about it. I mean, he can't deny that he hasn't been getting food from the kitchens; the house elves can prove that part. And there's all the other symptoms he can't deny. Maybe if we talk to him about it, we can understand why he's doing this to himself. Do you have any ideas?"

Hermione's brow was furrowed in thought, "I don't know much about eating disorders, if that's what this is, but I think it has something to do with trying to control a part of your life when everything else is chaotic."

Ron nodded. That definitely made sense. But how to approach the subject? Would he just close off even more? Hide the evidence? Feel that they were trying to control him? "I know I don't normally say this, but maybe we should leave this to one of the teachers. Or a Healer. We don't understand what he's going through and anything we do may make his condition worse. I hate snitching on him, but his health is at stake and I think it would be for the best…"

Hermione looked at Ron appraisingly, "You know, Ron, that's the most sensible thing you've said in a long time."

Ron grinned at her, "You must be rubbing off on me, Hermione." Hermione blushed in response. "Then it's agreed. We'll talk to a teacher about this and hopefully get Harry the help he needs."

Meanwhile, the boy under discussion was perusing the "Muggle studies" section at Flourish and Blotts. After much searching, he had finally found a book on muggle dieting methods. However, to his disappointment, most of the methods were utterly ridiculous. Who wanted to eat cabbage soup three times a day? And why would anyone live off lemon juice and cayenne pepper?

He was just about to put the book back when a surge of dizziness overtook him. Feeling darkness cloud his vision, he dropped the book on the floor and gripped a nearby bookcase to stop himself from falling. Clutching his abdomen with both hands, he ground his teeth against the sharp pain that seemed to be kicking him from within.

It was then that he heard the voice that he had grown to despise, "Well, well, Mr Potter, looking at muggle weight loss remedies are we? And just when I thought you couldn't get any more pathetic."

Harry opened his mouth to retort but closed it again when he felt the bile rising in his throat, "What, no clever retort today?" Harry could hear Snape's soft footsteps approaching him and he shook his head gently to clear his vision, but to no avail.

It was only when Snape was a foot or so away that his tone changed, "What is wrong with you, Potter?" Harry felt his heart start beating faster but didn't trust himself to reply, "If you're ill, you should be in the Hospital Wing."

Hearing this, Harry's weakened heart went into overdrive. Not the Hospital Wing. Anywhere but there. He wasn't weak. He wasn't vulnerable. He wasn't sick. He was a fighter and he was going to win this battle. Even if it killed him.

"No…sir…" he had wanted to argue his case, declare he was well, make some witty retort. But the toll the conversation took on his heart left him unable to do any of those things. Instead, he collapsed in a heap at the shocked professor's feet and would not regain consciousness for three days…

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	5. Chapter 5

Wow – this is getting written so much faster than I expected! As usual, review for continuation Would love to hear your thoughts/opinions/suggestions.

Happy reading x

Snape could feel his patience wearing thin as he paced the headmaster's vacant office. His thoughts were buzzing angrily in his mind like a swarm of angry wasps.

"Ah, Severus, how good to see you." Snape brushed aside Dumbledore's pleasant greeting with an impatient wave of his hand, "Did you see him? Did you speak to him? What did he say?"

Dumbledore sighed wearily as he seated himself slowly in his chair and stretched out his long legs. When he spoke, he appeared to be choosing his words with great care, "I will admit that I am not entirely satisfied with his replies. He claims to have been so immersed in his studies and his fight against Voldemort that he ended up missing meals on a number of occasions."

Snape snorted in disbelief, "A likely story. Haven't you seen this kind of thing before? Don't you know what to do?"

Dumbledore sighed again, this time even more heavily, "Alas, I have seen this condition on several occasions and the best remedy for the sufferer is for them to take control of their life, thus building their confidence and self-belief. This normally stems from exploring their thoughts and emotions with someone they like and trust. The boy has refused to confide in me so I suggest we contact Lupin."

Snape could feel his temper beginning to rise uncontrollably, "Oh yes, let's contact a few people, have a few nice discussions about his feelings and see how things go. Oh wait, he'll probably be dead by then!

You may have forgotten, Dumbledore, but the reason I joined your side, the reason that I place my life on the line every single day is to keep the Potter boy safe. To protect Lily's legacy. Yet if you have so little concern for his life–"

But then Dumbledore was on his feet, looking angrier than Snape had ever seen him, "Do you think I don't care? Do you think it doesn't slay me that Harry won't talk to me about his problems? I love him too, Severus."

Snape roared in fury, "Love him? Love him! I despise him! I always have and always will. But I refuse to stand idly by and watch Lily's son die. I couldn't save her but I can and will save her son!"

"Then help me. I know what I'm talking about Severus. Much more than you do. Listen to me. Trust me. Feeding him by force will only magnify the problem and could lead to irreparable damage. We need to get him to talk so we can address the root of the problem. The malnutrition is only a symptom of something much deadlier."

Dumbledore lowered his eyes to the desk and spoke softly to his clasped hands, "This is going to be difficult for both of us, but if we can co-operate on this, I am confident that we can save him."

Snape didn't like what he was hearing. He wanted a quick fix. Something that would alleviate the growing ache in his chest. Something that would remove the heavy weight on his shoulders. But deep down, he knew that Dumbledore was right. There was no quick fix for this level of illness.

Speaking in almost a whisper, black eyes met electric blue and Snape gave Dumbledore his solemn vow that together they would save Lily's son.

Just over a week later, Harry was sitting alone in the library working on his Transfiguration essay, or rather, appearing to work on his essay. In reality, he was daydreaming about food. These days, food was almost constantly on his mind. He could spend hours at a time imagining the taste of treacle tart on his tongue or trying to recall the rich, creamy smell of hot chocolate. The very thought made his heart pound more fiercely in his chest.

His concentration had certainly deteriorated. It took him hours to read a page. He couldn't hold a thought for more than a few seconds before it degenerated into something food-related. Giving up his essay as a bad job, he reopened his food journal and examined today's intake:

"2 pieces of apple, three glasses of water, half and cracker."

It hadn't been his best day. He knew that second piece of apple had been excessive, but he couldn't help himself. He was still weak. Still, there was no denying that he had made momentous steps towards his goal. He just had to work harder to be the person that everyone wanted him to be. Needed him to be.

It was several minutes before he noticed that a small raven haired girl was standing next to him, "Well, what do you want?" The words came out more defensively than he intended. Despite his rudeness, the girl stared at him in awe, "You're the Chosen One. The One that's going to save us all from You-Know-Who. I want you to know… I believe in you. I know you'll find a brilliant way to defeat him. I know it."

Instead of feeling flattered by the young girl's confidence, he felt as if a rubber band was slowly cutting off his air supply. Glaring at her, he slammed his book shut, "You don't even know me! You have no idea of what I'm up against! You don't know what he can do! I've seen him kill people without even a moment's hesitation. Voldemort is one of the greatest wizards of our time and me? I'm nobody. Nothing…"

"That's enough, Harry." The words came from the shadows and, peering in the direction of the voice, Harry soon made out the figure of his former teacher.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw the girl hurry away. Well, at least she knows the truth now. At least she knows I'm a hopeless case.

Turning his attention back to Lupin, Harry noticed that he was looking even shabbier than usual. His robes hung in tatters on his skeletal figure. His face was gaunt and his eyes sunken. However, Harry found himself comparing their bodies competitively. Who was thinner? Who was better?

From his conversation with Dumbledore, Lupin correctly deduced the direction of Harry's thoughts from the competitive glint in his eyes. And this worried him. The Harry he had known in the past was headstrong, confident and never gave up. So what had happened to make him destroy himself like this?

"Harry, I know you have a problem. And so do you." Lupin couldn't help but used hushed tones, not only were they in a library, but he knew at once that he was dealing with a very ill boy, "I want us to go somewhere nice where we can talk. Somewhere where you feel comfortable. Do you have a place like that?"

At these words, Harry could feel his hands balling themselves into fists and it took all his self-restraint not to punch his father's old friend, "Why are you talking down to me like that? I'm not sick! I'm not some sort of invalid! I'm fighting the most dangerous wizard in the world and I'm winning. I'm winning. I'm…"

Clutching his heart, Harry willed himself to remain conscious. Not again. He wouldn't give this man the satisfaction of seeing him pass out. So, gathering his remaining strength, Harry directed a fierce glare at Lupin, "I'm going to my dormitory now and I don't want you to follow me. In fact, I don't want to see you again, ever. You're the one with the problem, werewolf!"

Seeing Lupin glance nervously around, Harry spotted an opportunity and dove towards the door. It took every last ounce of energy but he miraculously made it back to his dormitory, gasping and panting for breath.

He was still clutching his chest when Ron walked in, an uncharacteristic look of anxiety on his face. "Mate, I saw you rush in, what's up?"

Looking at his best friend's freckly face, Harry felt two parts of him fighting it out. Half of him wanted to confess everything. The fear. The constant dread. The chest pains. The dizziness. But the other half of him wanted to throw him out of the tower. Shut him out of his life. Protect his secret.

As the two sides waged war, Harry was vaguely aware that Ron was talking, "Look, I know things are hard for you, but they're hard for us too. We're really worried about you. We want to help you, you just need to let us in."

Something about this speech rubbed Harry the wrong way. The kindness, the affection; it was too much. He didn't deserve either of them. He wasn't worthy. Didn't they understand? Everyone who looked out for him ended up dead. His parents, Sirius… No, it was better that he was alone. Better if he…

Harry raised a trembling hand and slapped Ron hard across the face. It wasn't a hard slap, he didn't have the energy for it, but the sound still reverberated around the room like a gunshot.

"I'd expect such silly sentimentalism from Hermione, but not from you. You can't help me. You can't do anything. You're useless. It's all up to me. All me, got that? So stop following me around, stop talking to me, stop trying to fix me. There's nothing left to fix. Nothing."

And with that, he pulled the hangings roughly around his bed, preventing Ron from seeing the tears that were now flowing freely down his face.

He might have imagined it, but he thought he heard a strangled sob before the sound of running footsteps signalled that Ron had left the room. And he was alone.


	6. Chapter 6

For what felt like the millionth time in the space of an hour, Snape felt his eyes drawn towards the Potter boy. He knew he should be observing the other students too, criticising their attempts at producing a Patronus, making the standard derogatory comments, but he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to direct his gaze at anyone other than the small dark haired boy unable to produce even a wisp of silver smoke.

Encouraging him to open up to Lupin had been a mistake. If anything, his condition had deteriorated even further in the following fortnight. He now had a pallor that could rival any of the Hogwarts ghosts and, coupled with the dark rings under his eyes and the dull, brittle appearance of his hair, Snape was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his promise to Dumbledore.

The anger that had been ever present at the beginning of term had abated and now there was nothing left. No matter how Snape needled him, criticised him, provoked him, there was no response. Just blank eyes locked in another world.

If he was allowed to have things his way, he would tip at least a dozen potions down Harry's throat, starting with potions for nutrition, good health and a dreamless sleep. He had even created the necessary potions in anticipation of some sort of breakthrough by the people who were supposed to be protecting him. The people who were supposed to love him. But nothing happened. And now The Boy Who Lived was fading away.

As thoughts of Harry's imminent demise filled him without unspeakable dread, Snape found himself gliding towards Harry almost against his own volition. "Potter! Are you even trying? How dare you make so little effort! Have you given up entirely? Talk to me!"

As soon as the last three words were out of his mouth, he wished them unsaid. Somehow, all the pain, horror and desperation he had been feeling over the past few weeks had seeped into those three little words.

However, as his brain went whirring into action to try and devise a cruel insult that would cover his slip, he noticed Harry's eyes come into focus for the first time in weeks and behind the shroud of apathy that seemed to be concealing him, Snape sensed a confused child longing to break free.

Suddenly aware that the entire class were staring at him, Snape made an impulsive decision, "For your homework, I want you all to practice the Patronus Charm until you feel it has been completely mastered. I will be testing you next lesson. Also, I want a two foot long essay on the development of the Patronus Charm, its uses and any disadvantages it may have. For next lesson. Class dismissed."

Hearing his announcement, his students froze and stared at him in shock. He had never dismissed them even a minute early and now he was releasing them halfway through a double lesson.

They must think I have taken leave of my senses, Snape thought to himself in wry amusement. "Have you all gone deaf? I told you all to leave!" This second announcement seemed to rouse his students from their stupor and within seconds they were charging towards the door. Harry turned to leave too, his now characteristic look of indifference firmly in place.

"Not so fast, Potter. I want a word with you." Snape expected some sort of reaction following this statement; surprise, confusion, maybe mutiny. But there was nothing. Harry had once again retreated into his own world.

Directing Harry to a seat in front of his desk, Snape looked down at the troubled young boy and tried to think of the best way to address the situation. He had heard about Lupin's approach from Dumbledore and just thinking about it made him seethe with rage. What had he been thinking? Patronising Harry and confronting him about his problem head-on – it had been foolish in the extreme. Snape was determined to be much more subtle.

As Harry brushed his hair out of his eyes, a small clump fell through his fingers and landed on the floor. Seeing this, it took all Snape's willpower to refrain from succumbing to his earlier desire to tip a number of powerful potions down Harry's throat. But he knew that wouldn't fix the broken boy in front of him.

Instead, Snape focused on a rusty cauldron in the corner of the room and addressed Harry in an offhand, almost indifferent manner, "I first saw you produce a Patronus at the end of your third year. It was a stag, if I'm not mistaken. So I know you are able to do it. We've all seen it, time and time again. We know you can do it, so what's going wrong?" No response. No reaction.

Just as Snape was concluding that his message had fallen on deaf ears, Harry started to speak in a hoarse, deadened voice, "Every time I try and picture it, see it clearly in my head, it turns into something else, something horrible. Because I've done it in the past, everyone now expects it, assumes I can keep doing it. But I can't. I can't."

Snape knew they weren't talking about Patronuses anymore. The whole world was counting on him to defeat Voldemort and that thought had terrified him so much that he didn't even want to try. After all, in his current state, no one would ever expect him to win any sort of fight. They would give up on him and there would be no more expectations to meet.

This flash of insight made him feel even more hopeless. How was he supposed to disperse Harry's fears of the Dark Lord? Voldemort's power made fully grown wizards quake and Harry was now Voldemort's number one target. What could he do to give him the will to fight? To make him realise that he was not alone in his battle and that there were other forces at work which could help him save humanity. He needed some way to get into the boy's mind…

"Potter, I want to resume our Occlumency lessons. You are to report to my office tonight at eight o'clock sharp. No excuses. We will finish what we set out to do. Now leave."

Watching Harry stumble towards to door, Snape could have sworn he had seen a flicker of hope in the boy's green eyes. And that was enough for now.

Enough from me too! Hope you enjoyed. As always, would love to read your thoughts/opinions on story's progression thus far!


	7. Chapter 7

Darting madly around the dormitory, Harry could hear his heart pounding furiously, "Stupid, stupid, STUPID!"

It would be foolish to think that anyone could help him. To think that SNAPE could help him? That was downright lunacy. The man hated him. He had made that clear time and time again. And yet Harry, fool that he was, had opened up. Trusted him with a whisper of truth. Well, never again. "Where the hell is that damn cloak?!"

"It's here, mate." The quiet voice came from the direction of his bed and to his surprise he saw his best friend standing in the shadows, holding Harry's invisibility cloak in his hands.

"How long have you been standing there?" Harry's eyes darted around the room, suddenly aware of the huge amount of mess he had made in a very short period of time. He was also painfully aware of how insane he must have looked, yelling at himself and throwing things around.

However, Ron wasn't looking at him like he was mad, he just looked sad and a bit weary, "I've been here since the start. You just didn't notice."

Something about Ron's deceptively simple words struck a chord with Harry and made his chest ache painfully. Clutching his heart, he staggered towards Ron to collect his cloak. But Ron quickly dropped it into his bag, "No, Harry. You're in no state to be wondering around invisible. Not right now. Not by yourself."

Harry felt his temper flaring, "Oh yeah? Well, that's not for you to decide. I need the cloak for a mission and I'm going with Dumbledore so I won't be alone. So give me the cloak right now!"

Whereas Harry was getting louder and more irritated by the minute, Ron was getting quieter and the look of pain in his eyes was growing, "Harry, Dumbledore is away right now. I saw him leave the castle an hour ago. And if he could see you now, I know he would agree that you shouldn't be running around invisible. You should be in the hospital. Where they can help you."

Although the room was now swimming hazily in front of his eyes, Harry grabbed an ordinary cloak from his bed, stowed his wand in his pocket and staggered down the stairs before he ended up wasting even more energy on this ridiculous argument.

What was happening to him? For weeks, he had been able to retreat into his own world and block out the stream of pointless queries, concerned looks and pointed fingers. But ever since Snape's interrogation, he felt as if that world was no longer available to him. It had been locked away. The whispered comments were beginning to reach his ears and Ron's concern had left him seething with rage.

Entering the grounds, Harry was unable to prevent a feeling of deep foreboding settling heavily on his heart. This feeling grew ever stronger as sheets of rain chilled him to the bone and the howling of the wind was drowned out only by the sound of his breath rattling in his lungs.

Reaching the edge of the forbidden forest, Harry noticed a light in Hagrid's hut. These days, thinking about Hagrid only worsened the strange ache in his chest. Hagrid had been the first one to stand up for him against the Dursleys. He had introduced Harry to the wizarding world. He was a solid, dependable presence in Harry's life. Or rather, he was. Now he had to be shut out, removed, extinguished. Before he too lost his life in the defence of "The Chosen One".

It was only the power of these thoughts that forced Harry away from the warm light of Hagrid's hut and the smell of freshly baked bread. Away from the man Harry had come to regard as a mixture of teacher, guardian, ally and friend.

Seeing one of the curtains twitch, Harry forced his legs to propel him into the depths of the forest. Here, the rain affected him less as it struggled to penetrate through the thick canopy of leaves and the howling of the wind took on a muted quality. It reminded Harry of being underwater and he had to fight against the feelings of suffocation that threatened to overwhelm him.

Looking around in horror, Harry suddenly realised that he had veered completely off course. He had been meaning to take the path to Aragog, Hagrid's pet man-eating monster. However, his preoccupation with the events of the day had caused him to miss his usual markers and now he had wondered into a part of the forest that was completely alien to him.

"Calm down, Harry. Use your wand. You know a spell that will point you north. You can use it to find the castle." That was when he realised that he had no idea whether the castle was north, east, south or west. He was stranded in the forest and with no way of escape. How did he get into this mess? Everything had been so clear in the beginning. He had a plan. He had a purpose. Now, everything had fallen apart and he wouldn't be able to save anyone, not even himself.

As panic began to consume his mind, Harry fell to his knees and began to hyperventilate. Everything was spiralling out of control and there was nothing he could do to stop it. As the world went black, Harry was vaguely aware of a shooting pain in his left arm, a squeezing sensation in his chest and a familiar voice being carried on the wind. A voice calling his name.


	8. Chapter 8

Staring hopelessly into the fire, Ron and Hermione were at a loss. Harry had been missing for hours now. A fragile young boy potentially battling against the howling wind, sub-zero temperatures and torrents of rain. But what could they do?

Harry clearly wanted to be left alone and, if Hermione's eating disorder theory was correct, then chasing him down and dragging him back to the dormitory would only make matters worse. They had been through option after option, scenario after scenario, but even Hermione's quick brain and extensive research hadn't helped them to find a feasible solution.

Just then, a small cough alerted them to another presence in the room. Startled, they jumped to their feet and looked around the room in surprise and anticipation. Had Harry returned?

But instead of Harry's small form, their eyes settled on the much taller one of Albus Dumbledore, the expression on his face uncharacteristically grave, "Apologies for disturbing you at this late hour, but I regret to inform you that your friend Harry is currently in the hospital wing. He was found unconscious in the forbidden forest by Hagrid in a very weak physical state. It would appear that he suffered a small heart attack and then collapsed."

Noticing the tears streaming down Hermione's face and Ron's deathly pallor, Dumbledore motioned for them to sit down before continuing.

"Professor McGonagall informed me when you went to her with your concerns a month ago. I am grateful. The other professors and I had already been discussing the issue but your input reinforced our belief that Harry is suffering from an eating disorder, anorexia nervosa if I am not mistaken. We believe that in order to address the root of his disorder, he needs to explore his feelings of powerless and hopelessness and vent his frustration through words rather than these destructive actions.

However, whilst we try and locate a suitable person to help him accomplish this objective, we need to supply his body with the nutrients it so desperately needs. We are aware that force feeding him may aggravate the situation in the long run so we will simply be using spells to restore some of the damage to his body and connecting him to a drip containing a powerful nutritional potion. Any more, and we risk doing more harm than good. Will you support me in all this?"

Looking at Ron, Hermione saw a shadow of a smile on his face for the first time in weeks. When they had told Professor McGonagall about their concerns, she had brushed it off with a simple "Seems like a far-fetched theory. I'm sure he is simply overworked. Leave it alone and things should sort themselves out."

At the time, they were convinced that they were on their own, that the teachers had more pressing matters to deal with. Now they realised they had been wrong.

The teachers did care about him, of course they did. They simply didn't want the stress of dealing with such serious issues weighing on the shoulders of two students. Feeling the ghost of a smile on her own lips, Hermione nodded at Dumbledore, "Of course, we'll do whatever we can."

Several hours later, Harry found himself in that peaceful state halfway between waking and sleeping. He was vaguely aware of clean cotton sheets, comforting voices nearby and a warm, satisfying feeling in his stomach. Wait a second, a warm feeling in his stomach?

As the pieces fell into place, Harry's eyes snapped open and he began to look around himself frantically. Taking in his surroundings, it was only a few seconds before he noticed that he was attached to some sort of drip that was pumping goodness knows how many calories into his body by the second.

As the bile began to rise in his throat, he started tugging at the loathsome tube with all his might. How much of his painstaking work had they already undone? Why were they all working against him? And why the hell couldn't he remove this damn tube from his arm?

"Ah, Harry, I see you're awake. I'm afraid that won't work, dear boy. You see, it's magically attached to you. We will detach it once we are confident that you have received sufficient nutrition to sustain your body."

Staring daggers at Dumbledore, Harry's hands groped his bedside table in search of his wand, internally debating whether to use his first spell to free himself of the tube saturating his body with poison or to attack the man who was supposed to be his greatest ally in his fight against Voldemort.

However, his plans were thwarted once again by the enemy before him. "If you are in search of your wand, Harry, I am afraid we had to confiscate it for the time being. Rest assured, you may have it back once we have discussed your situation and come to a few agreements."

Harry wasn't sure what pushed him over the edge. Maybe it was Dumbledore's cheerful tone, maybe it was the embarrassment of having his condition revealed to one of the greatest wizard of all time or maybe it was the feelings of imprisonment that threatened to suffocate him each second that he remained wandless and fettered to that stinking drip.

Losing control completely, Harry starting screaming at his headmaster, "How could you do this to me? You're supposed to help me win! You're supposed to help me be the best! I'd come so far towards my goal and now you've sent me back to the start! You traitor! How am I supposed to defeat the most evil wizard of our time when you're working against me?!"

"Listen Harry, I know this is hard for you, but there is something you need to understand." Dumbledore's voice had lost its cheerful quality, now there was a deep sadness in his eyes and his voice was earnest with a hint of desperation.

"I know you are under a great deal of pressure and I know you have suffered more than most wizards three times your age. However, you never gave up and for that reason you were able to defeat your foes time and time again. You faced your enemies head on and were able to win. You looked them in the eye and refused to bend to their will."

As Dumbledore paused to let his words sink in, unbidden images and covert fears rose to the forefront of Harry's mind. But in spite of the horrors of his past, remembering them, reclaiming them, felt like breaking to the surface of an ocean after almost suffocating in its depths. His past was dark and full of pain, but it was real. Wasn't it?

As two sets of competing fears fought for his attention, Dumbledore left him with one last thought, "You can't take on the world Harry. You need to choose your battles. Only then can you win. I know you will get there." And with that, he left Harry to explore the multitude of emotions that had arisen during their short but undeniably powerful conversation.

And that's all for now folks! Hope you enjoyed. Would love to hear your thoughts if you have a spare moment!


	9. Chapter 9

Hello again! Apologies for the unintended hiatus. Just finished a bout of the most horrendous exams known to man. However, to celebrate my return to life, I am posting two chapters (woo!) As always, reviews will be much appreciated!

Why had he agreed to this? It was pure and utter madness. Following his talk with Dumbledore, there had been a fierce battle raging in Harry's mind. Half of him knew he was too thin. Half of him knew the futility of self-starvation. Half of him knew that this wasn't the real battle.

But then there was the denial. It felt so good to move solidly towards a set goal. Losing weight had given him a sense of power and control that he had never experienced before. It was like a drug and giving it up was going to take everything he had… if he even wanted to do it.

But still, in a moment of strength (or weakness, as he now saw it), he had asked his friends to join him for lunch. Just a sandwich, he had told himself. No big deal. But he had been wrong. The pressure was almost unbearable.

He could see Hermione's large brown eyes shining with excitement, Ron's broad grin as he cheered Harry on from the side-lines, confident that he would make the first step towards recovery. Their complete confidence in him was both undeserved and terrifying. He was going to let them down again.

Hermione's voice roused him from his stupor, "Come on, Harry, you only need to take a few bites. It shouldn't be too difficult." At these words, fear and guilt turned to red hot anger. She might have been one of his most loyal and trusted friends but right now, he wished Hermione was a million miles away.

She didn't understand the furious desire to take the sandwich and throw it as far away as possible, to run as fast as he could to escape the suffocating feeling pressing on his chest. She didn't appreciate that it took all of his resolve just to hold the sandwich and ignore the alarm bells ringing in his head, warning him that some of the calories might be absorbed through his pores.

"Hermione's right. It's just a ham sandwich. You used to eat them by the tray-load, remember? You didn't even think about it." Harry felt the trembling begin. Of course, he had eaten and eaten without comprehending the consequences of his actions. That was why everything had fallen apart. He lived on a whim without understanding how his recklessness could cost people their lives. People like Sirius…

Pushing the tray roughly off his bed, Harry sprang out of his bed and started to run for the door. He had to get out. Before they all died. Before they all paid for his mistakes. Unfortunately for him, he had forgotten about the drip.

He hadn't even reached the end of his bed before he was yanked bank by the long tube attached to his arm. That was what broke him completely. "Just let me go! I can't do this anymore! Stop making me fight, stop making me lose, stop making me kill them!"

It was too much; the pain, the guilt, the anger, the fear. Unable to bear all the painful, conflicted emotions for even a second longer, Harry did the only thing he could to block out the pain, he slammed his head as hard as he could against the whitewashed hospital wall.

As he slid slowly towards the ground, he was vaguely aware of Hermione's hysterical sobbing, Ron's look of shock and something large and black in the distance.


	10. Chapter 10

Snape tapped his foot impatiently as the common room slowly began to fill. Checking his watch, he noted that he still had half an hour to wait and couldn't help but let out a soft hiss of exasperation.

When he had seen the desperate boy smack his head against the hospital wall, he had immediately flown to Dumbledore's office to demand… well, to demand something. He still hadn't come across a way to remedy the boy's illness but he knew something had to be done. Before it was too late.

However, on hearing about the severity of the situation, Dumbledore had set about arranging an emergency meeting to discuss the best way forward. Snape had been sent to prepare a room and was later informed that he would have to wait three hours before the necessary people were available. These proved to be three of the longest hours of his life.

As the minutes ticked by, Snape surveyed the room to establish who these "necessary people" were. He identified Molly and Arthur Weasley (equally hopeless individuals), Ron and Hermione (as if the other members of the golden trio could make a difference), Remus Lupin (because he was oh so helpful last time) and Professor McGonagall (no relevant expertise there).

Just as he was considering leaving the room, Dumbledore appeared accompanied by a witch in lime green robes bearing the Healer's emblem. Snape nodded in approval at the guest. Finally, someone who could make a difference.

After directing the witch to the chair on his right and introducing her as Healer Maris, Dumbledore seated himself on a flowery armchair and began the meeting, "I would like to start by thanking you all for coming, especially on such short notice. As you may already be aware, Harry's physical and mental state has been deteriorating considerably over the past year.

He is severely malnourished and we believe he may be suffering from an eating disorder called anorexia nervosa. It is for that reason that I have called this emergency meeting. On finding him unconscious in the Forbidden Forest, we attached Harry to a drip in an attempt to provide him with some much needed nutrition. Unfortunately, this act had an extremely detrimental effect on his mental health and we shall therefore be disconnecting the drip this evening.

The response to this announcement was mixed. Half the members of the room nodded in approval, whilst the other half let out cries of disbelief. Dumbledore waited for silence before continuing, "It has become increasingly apparent that we are ill-equipped to deal with Harry's situation. We have neither the relevant expertise nor the necessary understanding to address his deep-seated issues. I therefore propose that we relocate Harry to St. Mungo's for the treatment needed for a full recovery. Do you all approve of this course of action?"

For a moment there was silence and then Hermione piped up, "We've been trying to help him for so long. We've tried talking, rationalising, persuading, scolding… but nothing works. I think this is our only option." Unsurprisingly, Harry's red-headed sidekick nodded along in agreement.

Snape gave them both his most poisonous glare, "It does not surprise me that your pathetic attempts to save your friend have failed. However, that does not mean that our only option is to wash our hands of him and send him away. There might still be people here who have the skills and time needed to help the Potter boy."

Molly Weasley nodded in agreement, her eyes shining with tears, "Professor Snape is right. We can't send him away. That would be like abandoning him and would be small thanks for everything he's done for us over the years. He can come and live with Arthur and me. We'll feed him up and give him the love and attention he so desperately needs. We're the closest thing he has to a family, after all."

At this suggestion, Healer Maris spoke for the first time, "That is indeed a very kind offer. However, from what Professor Dumbledore has told me, it sounds as if Harry is currently feeling overwhelmed by the pressure to live up to expectations. If he were to stay with people he regarded almost as parents, the conflict between the need to please you and the need to avoid food could well destroy him."

"What about me?" Lupin offered tentatively, "After our falling out, he won't feel the need to please me."

Snape snorted derisively, "Oh yes, who better to care for a sick child than an occupational werewolf? Not to mention the effect you had last time!"

After an oppressive silence, Dumbledore sighed wearily, "In that case, it looks as if St. Mungo's is our only option."

It was at that point that Snape found himself on his feet, "No! I won't allow it!" Painfully aware of the shock registering on almost all the faces before him, Snape tried to regain his composure, "Not that I care for the Potter boy, of course… it's simply that we need him to defeat the Dark Lord. So I refuse to trust his recovery to anyone but myself. He will be relocated to my own quarters where I will oversee each and every step of his recovery."

At this Molly let out a hysterical sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry, "YOU? But you hate Harry! And he hates you! Over my dead body will he be forced to live with you. Do you hear me? I won't let you near him. I won't. I won't!"

She only ended her tirade when Dumbledore held up his hand, "My dear woman, I appreciate your concern, but we cannot deny that Professor Snape is best placed to help Harry at this moment in time. His quarters in the castle will allow Harry to remain in contact with his friends and his skill at legilimency will doubtlessly prove useful."

But Molly was not to be appeased, "That man has caused Harry nothing but anguish. What makes you think we can trust him with Harry's wellbeing when the poor child is in such a vulnerable state? We don't even know if he's really on our side!"

Dumbledore opened his mouth to respond but then shut it again. Only after considering Snape for a long time did he finally answer, "I trust Severus Snape. I have trusted him with my own life time and time again and he has never disappointed me. I am therefore content to trust him with Harry's life too. Are there any other objections?"

Lupin shifted uncomfortable and Ron looked distressed but no further complaints were voiced. Whilst undesirable, the general feeling was that living with Snape was still preferable to a room in St. Mungo's.

Dumbledore rose to his feet, "In that case, this meeting is dismissed. Harry will be transported to Snape's rooms and will reside there till he is fit enough to return to class. Snape will oversee his care along with Healer Maris and myself. Together, we will save him."


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: Hello! Firstly, I want to offer my most heartfelt thanks to all those of you who review. Your positive feedback inspires me to continue and your constructive criticism helps me improve my writing Furthermore, although I have a vague idea of the direction of this fic, your reviews help guide me forward so, as always, feedback is very much appreciated.

With regards to the narrative viewpoints, I appreciate that Harry's POV chapters are possibly stronger than Snape's. This may be because I have grappled with similar issues myself and so find it easier to inhabit Harry's head. Nevertheless, in the spirit of self-improvement I shall persevere with both for the time being. Again, I would value any thoughts on this. And now, without further ado… onto the fic!

Feeling the familiar pains in his stomach, Harry smiled. They had finally disconnected the drip. Sometimes, he dedicated each shooting pain, each internal kick, each throb of his heart to someone he had disappointed. One for Sirius. One for his Cedric. One for his mum. One for his dad. The list went on…

He was so deeply absorbed in his thoughts of self-deprecation and loss that he failed to notice the hardness of his bed, the cold draft and the sound of approaching steps. So it came as a complete shock when Snape's sharp voice penetrated his dismal thoughts with a curt awakening, "Get up now, Potter. I will not allow you to laze the day away and make my presence here even more pointless."

Falling out of bed, Harry hit the cold floor with a groan, his fragile body bruising easily. Where was he? And why was Snape torturing him at this ridiculous hour? What was going on?

As if Harry had spoken these questions out loud, Snape answered him, each word dripping with loathing and resentment, "You have been relocated from the Hospital Wing to my private rooms. It is nine o'clock in the morning and so high time you started work."

Harry stared at Snape blankly, "What work? It's a Monday, isn't it? Why aren't I going to class? And why am I staying with you? I should be back in my dormitories!"

"Watch your tone, Potter. As my guest, I will be expecting a great deal more respect from you in future. Have I made myself clear?" He waited for a quick nod from Harry before continuing, "It was recently discovered that we may have misinterpreted the prophecy. Although only one of you may survive, meaning that either the Dark Lord or yourself must perish, it does not necessarily follow that one of you must destroy the other. It is merely that the existence of one will bring about the death of the other, either directly or indirectly.

As one of the parties to whom the prophecy refers, it is crucial that you know this. However, it will be to our advantage if we can keep this information from the Dark Lord. It is for that reason that you have been relocated to my rooms. We will be having a two-week long intensive course of Occlumency lessons to help you seal your mind against him.

He will not be actively seeking this information but unless you take measures to keep your mind closed, he may look into your mind on a whim and discover this crucial information from you."

With great effort, Harry pulled his feeble frame back onto the bed and tried to absorb the mass of new information. "But our lessons last time were such a disaster. Especially since I…. I'm so sorry, Professor! About looking into your... memories…"

Snape surveyed Harry emotionlessly, "The past can be a terrible thing. It can hold us captive for years to come. It can taint our future and fetter us to bygone fears and mistakes. Breaking free can be a long and arduous process in and of itself. But it can be done. It must be done."

Harry's brows furrowed as he tried to understand the meaning behind the words. It seemed to Harry that Snape was intent on talking in riddles. "I don't understand, Professor."

Snape's eyes glittered strangely, "Well, I daresay you will soon enough. Enough idle chatter. Get changed into your school robes and we will begin our work."

As he prepared himself for their lesson, Harry thought over Snape's revelation but still couldn't decide how he felt about it. He was finally free of the burden of defeating Voldemort. He should be ecstatic, shouldn't he? But as he brushed his limp, lifeless hair, he simply felt unsettled and confused. As if something important had been taken away from him.

Walking back into the open plan living room and kitchen, he was appalled to see that the small wooden table was laden with food. There was toast, bagels, an assortment of jams, pancakes, maple syrup, waffles, cereal, bacon, eggs, hash browns, yoghurt, muffins and a selection of fruits. Harry felt his jaw drop and his stomach contract at the very sight. It was terrifying.

It was only after a few minutes of standing stock still, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the feast before him, that he finally became aware that Snape was speaking to him, "I am not familiar with your breakfast arrangements so I took it upon myself to prepare a selection for you to choose from. You are free to choose anything you want."

Free to choose. Those words rattled around Harry's brain like a long forgotten mantra. Free to choose. Free to choose. He was, wasn't he? He could choose his way forward now. But even if he was free to choose, how could he let everyone down? The whole wizarding world was counting on him to save them from Voldemort. His mother had died to save him. He now had to make her sacrifice count by saving everyone else. "I'm not hungry, Professor. Can we begin our lesson now?"

Snape frowned and for a moment wore an uncharacteristic expression of confusion before quickly recovering his composure, "As you wish, Potter. We shall begin immediately." After clearing away the piles of food with a flick of his wand, Snape moved into the centre of the room and motioned for Harry to stand opposite him, "Prepare yourself now, Legilimens!"

As always, Harry felt completely unprepared for the howling rush of memories he was bombarded with. However, there was a difference. In the past, he had the impression that Snape was randomly poking through his mind. This time, Snape seemed to be skimming the surface of his memories, calling up recent thoughts, emotions and dreams. He seemed to be looking for something in particular. Harry glared at the older man, hating him for fishing through his subconscious so casually.

He tried to close his mind but his bubbling anger made it impossible. As the memories began to overwhelm him, one particular vision kept flashing in front of his eyes. One which he had been dreaming about for months without understanding its significance. One which always caused him to feel immeasurable envy without truly understanding why.

As Snape ended the spell, Harry felt his weakened body crumple onto the floor. With a sigh of irritation, Snape grabbed him and pulled him none too gently onto a nearby chair. "Talk, Potter. Who is that beggar you have been thinking about?"

Harry refused to look up, "You have no right. No right to go through my memories and invade my privacy. Those are MY memories. So stay OUT!" And with that, he forced himself onto his feet and raced for the door. It was locked. When alohomora didn't work, he blasted the door to pieces with reducto and ran down the corridor as fast as he could. He had no idea where he was going, all he knew was that he had to get as far away as possible before he had to confront his cowardice and the whole wizarding world came to know the truth about the hopelessness of their wizarding hero.

A/N: One last point, I appreciate that Snape's outburst in the last chapter and his treatment of Harry in this chapter appear to contradict, however, I assure you that all will be explained in due course.


	12. Chapter 12

Author's note: Hello! Re-posting as I found a few grammatical errors in the last version. As always, I want to thank those of you who review –your approval/constructive criticism is much appreciated.

Harry ran and ran until his destination was finally in sight. Just as his legs were beginning to give out, he threw himself into the cramped storage cupboard and tucked himself into a corner, hidden from sight by a pile of cushions, a few errant broomsticks and a broken desk. He had visited the storage cupboard on many occasions during his first few years at Hogwarts when the pressure to succeed, the need emerge triumphant, had become too much to handle.

It reminded him of his cupboard under the stairs back at Privet Drive. All those days with no pressure, no expectations. Although he would rather die than admit it, he sometimes closed his eyes and pretended he was ten again, locked in his cupboard after a particularly strange incident. Aunt Petunia vacuuming outside, deliberately slamming the vacuum into the door, Uncle Vernon in the kitchen, yelling into his mobile phone, Dudley in the living room, watching some inane television programme. The trappings of blissful monotony.

As a wave of nausea hit, Harry forced himself to formulate a plan. He could think of nothing more embarrassing than to be found throwing up in a storage cupboard. He didn't understand the nausea any more than he understood the overwhelming fatigue or the bone-chilling cold that never went away. No matter. He had more important things to think about.

Reviewing the information he had learned from Snape, he knew that the Occulumency lessons would have to continue. Blasted Snape with his all-seeing eyes and his prying questions. He needed to be kept as far away as possible. What was he playing at? Pretending to care after all these years.

The reason they wanted him under close supervision was obvious. He had been careless. That trip to the forest had been foolish in the extreme. He had been doing fine up until that point. He needed to regain control of his life. And for that he needed freedom. And for that he needed…

"Ron!" Panting and puffing, Harry sat down heavily on his friend's bed. The trip to the dormitories had winded him and in hindsight, he should have rested in the Common Room before starting his mission. Fortunately, he had always been good at improvising, "Glad I found you! I have such big news. Give me a sec though, I ran all the way." That was a lie, he had tottered all the way, clutching at walls for support and taking several rest stops. But still, for his plan to work, Ron needed to be completely fooled.

Ron was the obvious choice. His heart was in the right place but he could hardly be described as observant. And when compared with Hermione, he was more gullible by far. Even now, his look of surprise was mingled with a glimmer of hope and his eyes revealed pure happiness at seeing his best friend again. This happiness sent a shiver of guilt down Harry's spine. Stay strong, he instructed himself sternly, it's for the greater good.

Recovering a bit of strength, Harry relayed to Ron the events of the morning, excluding the beggar vision and the stint in the storage cupboard, of course. He described his dramatic exit as the natural reaction to being told he had to stay with his most hated professor. "I don't understand it, Ron. Why would they make me stay with him? He hates me. And I hate him."

At this point Ron started to look nervous and began fidgeting with a loose thread from his robes, "We just want the best for you mate. Even if you can't see it right now, you need to trust us…" Harry smiled grimly, his suspicions had just been confirmed. Immediate action was required.

Veiling his frustration, Harry shrugged, feigning innocent confusion as best he could. "I feel like there's a conspiracy going behind my back. I feel like there's something I'm not being told. I feel like…" Picturing a large slab of treacle tart, Harry's stomach growled right on cue. Laughing, Harry grinned at Ron, "That reminds me, I skipped breakfast, let's go pig out in the Great Hall!"

The look of utter shock on Ron's face was almost comical. You'd think I'd just announced that I was going to strip off and parade down the Great Hall naked, thought Harry. "Come on, Ron. Lunch will be over if we don't get a move on. I'm starving." The last two words came out sounding slightly hollow. He wasn't sure why.

Bounding towards to the Great Hall with energy he didn't have, Harry's mouth started salivating at the thought of all the food that awaited him. Rich, warming stews. Sweet, moist cakes. Oh glorious, satiating, forbidden food.

Entering the hall, Harry scanned the room and felt his plan disintegrate on the spot. Hermione and Ginny were deep in discussion halfway along the Gryffindor bench and Dumbledore was seated at the staff table enjoying what appeared to be a large plate of mint humbugs. Strange man.

Harry thought of fabricating some excuse to leave but just as he was trying to think of one he hadn't used recently, Ron caught up with him and pulled him towards Hermione and Ginny, "Guess who's going to be joining us for lunch today?" The look of joyous amazement on their faces filled Harry with shame. Maybe just this once he could…. No! He had to be strong. The strongest. He had to win.

Watching Ron pile his plate high with mashed potatoes, chicken drumsticks, carrots, beans and peas, Harry fought the desire to start grabbing the food with his bare hands. Pure insanity. The food was going to weaken him, he knew that. But still, he hadn't been this close to food for weeks, months even. The smell was pulling him closer and closer, taunting him.

He tried to review his options, to make a plan, but his food-deprived brain refused to cooperate. His initial plan had been to pretend to eat, vanishing the food on his lap or just before it reached his mouth. However, that would be impossible under the intense gaze of his friends and Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes.

As Ron drowned Harry's plate in gravy, just the way he liked it, Harry felt his willpower vanish. His hands picked up his knife and fork almost of their own volition and he pulled the plate towards him. Just one mouthful, just one bite, just one taste….

A/N: I know! Very mean to leave you with a cliffhanger ending but I felt the drama that is to follow deserves its own chapter… Review for more!


	13. Chapter 13

As the first forkful of gravy soaked mashed potatoes entered his mouth, it was like a firework of flavours exploding on his tongue. It was so beautiful, so satisfying, that he felt his eyes fill with tears. As he swallowed, he pressed a hand to his stomach. For the first time in months, he felt the gnawing sensation in his stomach ease slightly and a thrill of pleasure ran down his spine.

I'll stop at halfway, he told himself sternly. He even separated off half the food on his plate so he would know when he had to stop eating. Yet after just a few more mouthfuls, his stomach was protesting and he was beginning to feel nauseous again. Maybe he would stop early. He tried to put down his knife and fork but his hands refused to cooperate with him. It was as if they had a life of their own; cutting, piercing, spearing the food and shovelling into his mouth. Faster, faster, faster. Before he knew it, his plate was empty.

Please stop, he thought. Please, no more. But he was completely out of control. His hands were now grabbing more chicken legs which he promptly began consuming with manic enthusiasm. By this point he was feeling downright terrified. Why couldn't he stop himself? What was happening to him? Why was he doing this to himself?

And the meal wasn't even over. As the desserts appeared before him, he discovered that he was helping himself to slice after slice of treacle tart, scoop after scoop of ice-cream, his spoon darting between his plate and his mouth with astonishing rapidity. At one point, he was pretty sure he chipped a tooth as he shoved his spoon ferociously into his mouth. Not that he cared. More, more, more. Faster, faster. These were the only words that were swirling around his confused brain.

As soon as the food disappeared, it was as if his senses suddenly returned to him. Dropping the spoon still clutched in his sticky fist, he tried to stand up. It was only then that he noticed the astounded expressions on the faces of his friends. Ron's mouth was hanging open and Ginny's eyes were as round as dinner plates. Chancing a glance at the staff table, he noticed that Dumbledore was staring directly at him, wearing a look of concern and possibly sadness. Seeing the man start to descend towards the Gryffindor table, Harry rushed away, one hand clutching his grossly distended belly. His vision was blurry and he could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

His initial goal had been to reach his dormitory but before he had put even two corridors between himself and the site of his undoing, he started retching. Lurching into a nearby bathroom, he threw himself into a stall, slammed the door shut and starting reliving his Hagrid-sized meal. When he was finished, his head was spinning and there was a most vile taste in his mouth. Gripping the toilet bowl for support, he tried to piece together the events of the last half an hour, but everything was a blurred mess of shapes, colours and smells.

As he splashed his face with water, he heard someone enter the bathroom. Please not Dumbledore, please not Dumbledore, he thought to himself. Fortunately, it was just Ron. Good old, gullible Ron. Or maybe not. He was wearing a worryingly Hermione-like look. "And so now you're bulimic. Great."

The word meant nothing to Harry. Bulimia? They had gone on and on about anorexia during his stint in the hospital wing but had never used this term. Ron answered his unasked question with a growl, "Eating huge amounts and puking it up is called bulimia, Harry!" Something shifted in the air between them. Something broke.

"I can't take it anymore Harry. I just can't. I'm done with being supportive. I'm done with watching you destroy yourself. I'm just done. So go ahead. Eat, don't eat, overeat. I really don't care anymore!" And with that, he ran from the room, leaving a weak, confused, hopeless Harry behind him.

Just as he thought things couldn't get any worse, an unmistakeable voice greeted him from the shadows, "I thought I might find you here, Mr Potter." Oh great, Snape had found him. Excuses whirled around his exhausted mind like leaves on an autumn day but before he could pick the least implausible one, Snape had held up a hand, "I am quite prepared to let this morning's incident pass without question in addition to this little…episode." Seeing Harry's incredulous expression, Snape's face folded into something that almost resembled a smile, "On the condition that you accompany me to my rooms once more, this time on a voluntary basis."

As he said these words, a mask seemed to come over Harry's face, "I can't do that, Sir." The last word came out almost like a hiss. Snape frowned, "You know, Mr Malfoy was very interested in the return of your appetite this evening and even more interested in your sudden exit from the Great Hall. Whilst I was able to prevent him from following you, he is bound to question me regarding the incident and when I am displeased, it is oh so difficult to remain discrete." Harry shot him a look of loathing reserved just for him. He was being blackmailed. "And if you are not displeased?" Harry knew what the answer would be.

"Well, if I am not displeased, I suppose young Mr Malfoy's curiosity will have to go unsatisfied." Harry felt himself begin to tremble, this had to be against all the school rules. But still, he had no choice. It wasn't as if he could go to Dumbledore. Dumbledore, who had once been his champion. Dumbledore, who had ultimately betrayed him. Feeling as if he was drowning in a sea of despair, Harry accepted Snape's offer, "I suppose I'll go with you then" he croaked. And with that, Snape led the way to the dungeons, leaving Harry stumbling in his wake.

A/N: Ok, so a lot of people I know think that anorexia and bulimia are disparate disorders. That's a myth. In my experience, they are almost intrinsically linked. Very few people can manage to withstand the hunger pains of anorexia without having the occasional binge. Anyhow, let me know what you think about this latest development/continuing the fic/anything else that comes to mind!


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